


Something About His Smile

by Truth



Category: Firefly
Genre: F/M, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-07-09
Updated: 2007-07-09
Packaged: 2017-10-14 06:30:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,403
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/146382
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Truth/pseuds/Truth
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"She was hardly shy, and once she started to think his flirting was cute, rather than annoying, things progressed pretty quickly."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Something About His Smile

“You don’t like him.” Mal looked across the table at Zoe.

“Well….”

“You _still_ don’t like him.” Mal watched as Zoe turned her drink with long fingers, looking down at it, instead of at him. “He’s an amazing pilot, easy to get along with – so the shirts might be a bit hard on the eyes, but that’s a small sin in the grand scheme of things. What’s wrong with him? And don’t you just keep sayin’, ‘There’s just something’. Come up with something.”

Zoe glanced up, giving him the look that said, ‘you can only push me so far on this one’. “He bothers me.”

“What, he’s been peepin’ in you while you’re in the head?”

There was a long, frozen silence as Zoe’s eyes narrowed. “Sir, I think that’s a line of inquiry you’d best not push further.”

“You mean he _has_?”

There was a thump and an outraged shout of ‘Hey now!’ from the mess and Kaylee set her back to the wall of the passageway as Zoe stalked past her, scowling.

“What’d you do?” Kaylee had a towel in hand before she was even done with the question and set about dabbing efficiently at Mal.

“I asked a simple, civil question, that’s all!” Mal was still trying to figure out exactly how a single drink had managed to soak his hair, his shirt and still manage to trickle stickily down his spine. There hadn’t been that much _in_ her mug to start!

“The sort of simple, civil question that makes your first mate empty her drink all over her captain?” Kaylee wasn’t laughing, but only because Mal would take it badly. She gave him a cheerful, lopsided smile. “Can’t’ve been all _that_ civil.”

Mal snatched the towel from her and rose to his feet. “It’s mutiny, that’s what it is.”

Kaylee put a hand over her mouth to stifle her laughter as he stalked away in search of fresh clothing and the remnants of his dignity – safely in the opposite direction from Zoe’s exit.

The first mate of the Serenity had gone as far as the cargo bay and was calming her ruffled feelings by stripping and cleaning her sidearm, concentrating on routine instead of why, exactly, she’d just emptied a mug of perfectly good alcohol over the head of her Captain.

“Hey, Zoe!”

Zoe’s head came up and the glare she turned on the new arrival was almost enough to shave off his mustache with. Both of Wash’s hands came up and he skidded to a halt. “Whoa there, First Mate Alleyne. I was trying out a friendly, slightly less formal hello in hopes of finally thawing the ice that’s been frosting the air between us. I meant no offense.”

“None taken,” she assured him crisply, turning back to her weapon.

“Maybe not by you.”

Their normally easy-going pilot sounded… _hurt_. Zoe glanced up again, surprised. He even looked hurt, arms folded defensively as he stared at her and she felt a mild twinge of guilt. She suppressed it ruthlessly. “Excuse me?”

“You respect the Captain, not that he isn’t worthy of respect, but it’s there to see, plain as day. You like Kaylee. You laughed at one of her jokes the other day.” He looked almost offended by that, which might’ve been funny if he hadn’t still looked hurt and almost confused. “I’ve tried to get you to talk to me. I’ve tried to get a smile out of you and even the sock puppets didn’t help.”

“Look, I….”

Wash talked directly over the top of her, spreading his arms with an enthusiastic sorrow that nearly cracked his fingers on the nearest set of crates. “What did I do? Did I use the wrong set of chopsticks at dinner last night? Is it my shirts – because, fair warning, I _like_ these shirts – or do you object to my collection of plastic dinosaurs? There must be a reason why you disappear when I enter a room and I don’t think you’ve said two words to me in the entire week I’ve been here!”

There was a smile somewhere, trying to break free, but Zoe repressed it ruthlessly. Some inner demon prompted her to respond, with every appearance of complete seriousness, “It’s the mustache.”

He stopped, jaw open, arms still spread, and she could almost hear him deflating. “The.. mustache?” he repeated, obviously disbelieving.

“I could never,” she assured him, solemn as a judge, “warm up to a man with a mustache.”

Wash gave her a somewhat thoughtful look. “… huh.”

Twenty minutes later, Kaylee swung into the stairs from the aft passage, on her way to the common area and nearly collided with Wash. “Whoa, sorry there, I…. Oh. Oh my.”

Rubbing somewhat ruefully at his jaw, Wash offered her a sheepish smile. “That bad, is it?”

“No, no,” she assured him hastily, reaching out to touch his face before realizing it’d seem a bit forward and yanking her fingers back. “You look really nice – younger too.”

“Thank you, I think.” Wash raised an eyebrow at her, but he was smiling.

“Why’d you shave it off?” Kaylee gave him an interested look, leaning against the railing and obviously having no plans to leave till her curiosity had been satisfied.

“Zoe said….” He stopped, eyeing the slowly dawning smile on Kaylee’s face with mild apprehension.

“ _Zoe_ said,” she repeated, giving him a wide smile. “So _that’s_ the way of it?”

“Now Kaylee,” Wash held up a hand, but Kaylee just wrinkled her nose, smile growing.

“She sure is pretty, ain’t she?”

“ _Kaylee_!”

Laughing, Kaylee ducked around him and fled, laughing, toward her quarters.

Mal’s reaction, upon walking into the cockpit not five minutes later, was equally amused, and far less encouraging.

“She told you it was your mustache… and you _believed_ her?”

Wash stared at him, hurt. “A lady has a right to her opinions.”

Mal’s ability to dredge up an appropriate response was somewhat hampered by his amusement. “Your mustache… that’s rich.”

“What’s rich, sir?” Zoe stepped into the cockpit and glanced at Wash… and paused, her eyebrows climbing upward.

Wash flushed, one hand rising to cover the lower half of his face before realizing it was too late. Instead, he covered a completely false and theatrical yawn. “Is that the time? I think it’s time I hit the sack. Night, all.”

Zoe stared at him as he left the cockpit, turning to watch him walk away, with both eyebrows raised and an expression of thoughtful bemusement.

“That was a cruel thing to do,” Mal told her, still chuckling. “Funny, though.”

Turning, she gave him a look of perfect, solemn innocence. “Funny, sir?”

“You don’t mean to tell me it really _was_ his mustache that was bothering you?” Mal gave her a look of disbelief.

“Could be,” she assured him, turning to leave the cockpit herself. “Stranger things have happened.”

“… well, I’ll be.”

**

“I’ll have you know,” Wash told the assembled crew, hand indignantly raised against their laughter, “that it was _not_ a false yawn, I’d been working hard all day and I was tired.”

Zoe, leaning comfortably against him, turned to press a kiss against his cheek. “Let him have his story.”

“Listen to your wife, Wash,” Book advised him, offering them both a gentle smile. “Does it really matter how it happened?”

“Well, I’d prefer something a bit more along the lines of how my manly charms and obvious wit convinced her to ravish me - _ow_.” Wash broke off as Zoe’s elbow met his ribs.

“I’m very fond of your manly charms,” Zoe advised him, granting him another kiss despite the accusing look he turned on her. “Once I realized they were directed at me, that is.”

“All it took was a shave,” Wash told her, smiling dreamily.

"Something about your smile," she told him, laughing softly. "Once I could _see_ it."

“I think I’m going to be sick.” Jayne pulled himself up from the table. “All this lovey-dovey crap. You should’ve stuck to the ravishing. This ship could use a bit more ravishing.”

“Ravishing?” Wash asked hopefully, looking up at Zoe and wiggling his eyebrows. “It _is_ our anniversary and all.”

“Seeing as it’s our anniversary….” She was laughing as she stood and pulled him to his feet.

“Good night all,” Wash wished the assembled, allowing Zoe to pull him from the room.

“I hate this ship,” Jayne muttered, heading after them. “I’ll be in my bunk.”

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [](http://community.livejournal.com/springkink/profile)[**springkink**](http://community.livejournal.com/springkink/)


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